British hegemon

Chapter 139 Praise to Kill

"...Whether he wins or not, the new king will most likely lose, and he will have no choice but to fight and retreat. The south is the English sphere of influence, and the north is the territory of the Comin family. He just killed Comin, and he won't be foolish enough to go north to his death."

"Therefore, our new king will only retreat to one place." Roger pointed to the rough map on the table, "The West Coast."

"Your task this time is to infiltrate the new king's army, keep a close eye on his movements, and immediately send someone back to inform me when he is defeated. The rest of you continue to follow him..."

Roger told Earl and the others that it would be best to track Robert's whereabouts as merchants accompanying the army, and to pay clergy to leave secret messages in places with churches.

Roger agreed on a code word for intelligence and instructed them to follow discreetly, and only join the army as a last resort.

"Guys, you are my right-hand men. I don't want anything to happen to any of you. Remember, in times of crisis, survival is the most important thing. Your wives, children, and families are still waiting for you to return on the island."

Roger's heartfelt words brought tears to the eyes of Earl with ponytail, Tok and Grey Rat, and Connor, who had been temporarily assigned to the "intelligence squad."

Several of them expressed their willingness to die for Roger.

"Go and prepare. Tomorrow morning we will take the Nafi ship to Glasgow and begin our operation from there."

"Yes!" Earl, with his ponytail, stood up first, bowed to Roger, and left Roger's study with several of his men.

A figure brushed past Earl with the ponytail, who glared at him fiercely.

He was a messenger of the baron's residence, or more accurately, a messenger.

"Sir, White... uh, Baron John has sent a summons from the court," the black-skinned dog Sigurd announced the identity and purpose of the person behind him.

"A summons?" Roger looked puzzled. When was he being charged?

The messenger, with utmost care, bowed and scraped as he personally handed the wax-sealed letter to Roger.

Roger took it with one hand, impatiently tore off the sealing wax, unfolded the envelope, and scanned it, his expression displeased.

John the White-Faced is up to his old tricks again.

This is a complex issue involving inheritance and feudal fiefdoms. Simply put, Roger inherited the title of Knight of Arlen Island and the land of Milkhouse Estate from his adoptive father, Colin Campbell.

The problem is that Roger only inherited his father's "knighthood" and the corresponding fiefdom, but not the title of "Knight of the Square Banner." In other words, Roger only had the right to inherit the land under his father's "knighthood" title, but not the title and land inheritance rights of his brother, the apprentice knight Colin.

To put it more bluntly, nearly half of the 490 acres of land and 400 acres of forest at Milk House Estate no longer belong to Roger.

This summons requires Roch to appear in the Baron's Court three days later to hear a court ruling on the return of the fiefdom. The presiding judge for this trial is, of course, the Baron of Arlen.

Of course, Roger also easily figured out Whiteface John's true intentions, because the shameless Whiteface wrote at the end of the summons that "the textile mill" could be exchanged for the title of "Knight of the Square Banner" and the land, so that Roger could continue to own all the land in Milkhouse Manor as it is now.

Their eating habits were truly disgusting.

But Roger didn't have the energy to deal with his cuckolded cousin who was being manipulated. After a quick thought, he picked up his quill pen and wrote a line on the back of the summons.

"Take this back and tell your master that he need not bother convening a lord's court; I agree with his verdict."

Obey the judgment and return the land after the autumn harvest.

Roger Campbell, the pale-faced John, looked at the two lines of text on the back of the envelope again, then turned it over and read the original text of the summons, confirming that there was no ambiguity in the expression of the summons.

"He agreed so easily?" The pale-faced man looked on with suspicion.

"My lord, I saw it with my own eyes; Sir Roger offered no resistance whatsoever."

"This—this shouldn't be happening, right?" The pale-faced man turned to look at the fair-skinned inner palace knight standing close beside him, his iron fist slamming into the sheep.

In the pile of hair.

The fair-skinned knight took the envelope, glanced at it, and stared at the messenger, asking, "Did you mention that the Baron also demanded that the Campbell Textile Mill and Saltworks pay one-fifth of the tax?"

"I also mentioned that Sir Roger said he would consider it and would reply in a few days."

John the pale-faced man and the fair-skinned palace knight were both stunned.

"They didn't hit you?"

"No, you're too kind. You even gave me a beer."

"This~~~"

"This is all the Baroness's idea. She is worried that your strength is too great and will threaten Baron John's position."

Bald Neil said mysteriously, "They say the old Baroness is having a falling out with White John. The old lady wants to remarry, but White John is adamantly against it. They—"

Roger raised his hand and slapped bald Neil hard on the head. "I gave you money to buy information, and this is all you found out, you bastard?"

Bald Neil quickly ducked away from Roger's clutches, "Sir, there's more than this, there's more than this."

"That pale-faced sodomite has been acting like a tyrant in the castle lately, and the castle's inhabitants are quite resentful. Yesterday, the clerk had a dispute with the sodomite in court and was almost kicked out of the castle, saying that he was protesting the sodomite's act of seizing a piece of land heritage."

"Clerk? Which clerk?"

Roger recalled for a moment, "That Paul?"

"Yes, that's him, he just became the clerk."

Roger stared at the several ledgers on the table, lost in thought.

"My lord? My lord?"

Roger snapped out of his reverie, looked up at bald Neil, and said, "Find an opportunity to meet that young clerk and tell him that if he doesn't want to be mistreated at the Baron's manor, he can come to Milk House Manor anytime, and I will treat him as his butler."

Bald Neil was puzzled. "Sir, he's just a young bookkeeper. Why would he deserve such treatment?"

"You don't know anything."

Roger placed his boots on the wooden table in front of him, reclined in his chair, and relaxed with his eyes closed. "Let's move on to the other news."

Bald Neil quickly bent down. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with Sir Liam, what has he been up to lately?"

Bald Neil looked up at the floorboards, carefully recalling the news that the island's thugs had compiled for him over the past few days. Clearly, those peripheral "intelligence agents," who were paid a penny a week, had given Bald Neil a lot of trivial and useless information.

After thinking for a while, Bald Neil finally answered, "He's been leading a few starving families from the estate to clear land recently. The land that Whiteface gave him is small and barren, not enough to support his family."

Roger closed his eyes and shook his head, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Have the old butler prepare some food, wine, smoked meat, and cloth."

"Yes, also prepare some farm tools and seeds."

After thinking for a moment, I decided, "Now that the planting season is over, I'll have the old steward bring over a few of the manor's oxen and crossbow horses to lend to Sir Liam."

"Tell Sir Liam that this is a gift from the neighbor and ask him not to refuse it. If he wishes, he can also send five villagers to work at Campbell's Saltworks. I will provide for their food and give each of them two pence a day."

Bald Neil's eyes nearly widened. "Two pence a day per person? Sir, our own salt workers only get half a pence a day."

Roger didn't even open his eyes. "Bald Neil, do you know why I've been constantly talking about Whiteface and that sodomite bastard lately?"

Tolerance?

Bald Neil fawned over him, asking, "Why?"

"To get rid of someone, you don't necessarily have to fight them with swords; sometimes, flattery is the best way."

Bald Neil didn't understand a word, but he nodded repeatedly in approval.

"Alright, save your flattery for Sir Liam. Get out and call my secretary in."

"Secretary? You mean Miss Lisa? I'll go get her right away." Bald Neil left the study, suppressing a wicked grin.

A moment later, a young girl wearing a brand-new white dress and an apron quietly entered Roger's study and closed the door behind her.